


You are

by Meeshdragon



Series: Humanstuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:26:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2327009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meeshdragon/pseuds/Meeshdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion to Humanstuck, inspired by Spacebros. 'You are..' features a world after the scratch, where everyone - trolls and humans - are returned to earth as humans and wiped of their memories. Of course, some things you never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Space Bro](https://archiveofourown.org/works/253758) by [JumpingJackFlash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingJackFlash/pseuds/JumpingJackFlash). 



> So long ago I wrote a terrible, terrible piece called Humanstuck. While I'm not too proud of my writing, I loved the premise I set it in and felt bad for abandoning the work. Sad to say, however, I've lost the muse for following up on that terrible writing completely. 'You Are' takes place in the same world, and more summarizes what I had in mind for Vriska. Future one shots in the same style might come up, just for fun.

You were eight years old when you remembered.

Mom was in the trailer, doing her own thing while you messed around outside. The day’s activities had resulted in a scraped knee, three bruises, and a still-bleeding cut on your elbow. Currently you were poking at an anthill with a stick, typical kid stuff.

 

Something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. A glimmer of light, a flicker of movement. It was a spider, spinning its web. A common sight, home was never really bug free, but this one caught your attention a moment, two moments more than another would.

 

And that’s when you remembered. You collapsed to the ground, shaking, gasping for breath. Images filled your mind. Grey skinned people with orange horns filled your mind, alphabets of strange symbols, including your own, Scorpio.  
The memories went on for what seemed like hours, and you could only sit there, taking it all in, before finally looking up. Your face was tear streaked, and suddenly the cut on your elbow looked wrong, all wrong. It was too red it /couldn’t/ be red.  
Eventually, you stood up and dried your tears. The spider was given one last, dismissive glance, and then you left to go back inside. Fairy tales were fun and all, but in the end, grey skinned people were about as real as Peter Pan. You quickly learned to push that day to the back of your mind. And you move on.

  
\---

  
But you never really forget. In your sketchbook, you add horns onto the figures. When a spider shows up in the classroom, you do your best to pick it up and deposit it gently outside, even when others scream and throw a fit. And you can’t help but smile every time you see the horoscope section of newspapers.

  
And then there’s the dreams. At least once a week, sometimes twice. Sometimes they’re not very long, just a flash of typing in boredom on a computer that is definitely not a computer, a flash of trying on a homemade pirate’s outfit. Sometimes they’re longer, more complicated. You and eleven others facing down a huge creature out of your nightmares, a creature with a peg leg and a golden tooth. Desperately hunting down other grey-skinned people, knowing if you can’t find and kill them, you’ll be next on the menu…a giant spider’s menu.

  
And sometimes your dreams are just a scent, a color, a symbol. Something small and insignificant, but somehow those are the dreams that wake you up, shaking and desperately reaching out for more..

  
When you’re fifteen, that’s when the first name comes to you. Tavros. With that name comes a sense of color, a sense of brown. And when you glance through the horoscope section of the newspaper as you always do, the sight of that Tauros makes you smile, touching it softly with one finger. The artist has chosen to draw that symbol in green. It’s wrong.

  
\---

  
Years go by, and suddenly you’re eighteen and graduating high school. Your mom takes you to a casino to celebrate and the moment you’ve stepped inside, an odd sort of satisfaction hits you, a certainty that you’re comfortable here in a way you are nowhere else.

  
Needless to say, your winnings are more than enough to cover college, and a good one too. And that’s even accounting for mom’s losses.

  
\---

  
You are twenty one and working in a bagel shop along classes when you see him. Tavros. When he catches you staring you play it cool and sell him a bagel. Then he gives you a small smile and leaves.

  
When you get home, you scream into a pillow until your throat hurts.

  
\---

  
You are twenty three and smiling proudly as you are given your college diploma. It was laughably easy to get, even here at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. You are smiling as you receive the diploma, smiling at the after party. You know you have succeeded plenty and gone far, farther than you ever would have expected yourself when you were an eight year old poking in the dirt.

  
You are still smiling as you flick the diploma into the fireplace, and head out the door.

  
\---

  
You are thirty and you live in a small town in the south, perhaps not happy, but content. You run a casino and live on a ranch. You have two dogs named Pupa and Fussyfangs. Life is good.

  
You are thirty when Tavros shows up at your door, still in his wheelchair. You’re not sure how he found you, but there’s something in his eyes, something that wasn’t there before. “I just want to tell you” he says, and there is uncertainty in his voice. “It’s alright. I forgive you.” He gives you a small smile, and you sense it in him, how he’s been searching for years to find you and tell you, and still he’s not entirely sure of what it is he’s forgiving you for. He wheels away and you never see him again.

  
\---

  
You are forty eight when you see the boy in blue and the boy in red on television. The one in blue has become a comedian and the one in red, a musician. They’re interviewing together and you can’t help but smile. Best friends, even in this world.

  
\---

  
You are fifty three and slowing down. You’ve gone blind in one eye and lost an arm to cancer, but you’re doing alright. Pupa and Fussyfangs have long since passed away, and now you have cats. Eight of them. A bit excessive to some, but to you the perfect number. You can’t do much anymore but sit at the computer with the extra large monitor and type away. You’re not quite sure when you started typing exclusively in blue and replacing certain vowels with the number 8, but it feels right.

  
\---

  
You are seventy four and in a retirement home. A newcomer is coming today, joining your ranks so to speak. It’s a former fashion designer, and as the nurses wheel her in, her smile is familiar to you as your own and you’re the first to welcome Kanaya to your new home.

  
You’ve grown used to telling the nurses everything now – they simply smile and nod in that way of theirs and though they don’t believe you, you don’t really mind. So you tell Kanaya too, of another world where you were friends and then something more, and the little woman with jade lipstick simply purses her lips and admits she had a wife in this world, a certain Rose, and you throw back your head and you laugh and laugh.

  
\---

  
You are eighty and Kanaya is on her deathbed. She meets your eyes for a moment and you see the flash of clarity and know that all at once, she’s remembered. You smile and give her a small nod, and she sighs softly, gaze growing unfocused. And then she is gone

  
\---

  
You are eighty eight when you close your eyes for the last time. Your name is Vriska Serket, and you are content.


End file.
